


i wanna know what you're thinking about

by lafgl



Series: fragile heart [10]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Campfires, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Percy Jackson, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Fluff, Genderbending, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafgl/pseuds/lafgl
Summary: tumblr prompt: "Fem Percabeth 19. Shy kiss or 74. Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap"
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: fragile heart [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553368
Kudos: 79





	i wanna know what you're thinking about

**i can't believe you're sitting next to me**   
**just open up your eyes and tell me**   
**what do you see?**

**do you see somebody looking back at you?**   
**or do you see somebody that's in love with you?**

**coloring book ..//.. the regrettes**

* * *

Annabeth's hand drifts, crawling across the bark of the tree trunk to rest on top of hers. Percy's suddenly hyperaware of everything around them — the musk of the fire, the way it crackles and sparks; the heat rising towards her, and the heat in her face. Annabeth looks over, smiling until her face softens as she notices Percy's hesitance.

“Hey.” She lifts her hand from Percy's and runs it down her arm, her touch light and gentle. “It's just me.”

It sends a shiver all the way up to her shoulder. That's the whole point. It's _her_. Her _best friend_. And her _girlfriend_ — it's hard to stop buzzing with excitement when _Annabeth Chase is her girlfriend_. It's an almost unreal feeling; she spent so much time lamenting her feelings for her, coming to terms with the idea they'd never be a reality. Then Annabeth touches her like this, holds her hand, _kisses her_ , and her heart pounds in her chest like she's never felt.

“You okay, Percy?” she asks.

“I'm— I don’t know.” Percy stutters, looking around. She's not sure what she's looking for — it's late, and most of the other campers have gone back to their cabins already. She supposes she has to face it eventually; “I get so nervous around you,” she admits. It’s hard for her to say. She’s been a hero in the eyes of the world for too many years now. Being vulnerable was not an option, nor a choice.

Annabeth scoots closer to Percy, her fingers brushing against her cheek as she sweeps wisps of hair behind her ear. “Percy,” she sighs and smiles, her eyebrows furrowing — a bittersweet smile. “It’s _just me_.” There’s a softness in her voice Percy’s never heard before. It’s almost strange to hear her talk like this, so quiet and kind.

“I know it’s you, that’s… that’s the whole…” Percy sighs, “This is exactly what I was afraid of.” She lets it out in frustration, because it’s the only way she knows. _Being vulnerable is the easiest way to get yourself killed._

“What?” Annabeth asks, not moving her hand from Percy's cheek, but running her thumb along the side of her face, urging her to keep going.

“Things… changing between us," she manages.

“Perce,” her gaze softens even more, taking hold of Percy’s hands with her free hand. “You’re still my best friend.”

“It just doesn’t seem real sometimes.” She clarifies, “All of it, I mean. The war being over. The fact that I’m still here. Alive. And—” she starts to laugh, “—and you like me, which I still don’t completely understand.”

“No, I— I know what you mean. I know this is… scary, or weird, or,” she chuckles, “whatever, but we’ve been through much crazier stuff.” If they could navigate the labyrinth, they could figure out a relationship. Not that she hasn't asked herself so many questions about it: She’s wondered about so many things — _What would her father think?_ _And her mother?_ Sally Jackson’s already been like a mother to her; no doubt _she’ll_ be thrilled. But what happens when summer’s over? _School_? And _college_? The only thing she’s sure of is that she wants Percy to be by her side just like she has for the past five years. _Everything_ and every _one_ else be dammed.

Percy whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

She wants to laugh, and tell Percy she doesn't have to ask. Instead, Annabeth smiles, and presses her lips against Percy’s. She still can’t get over how incredibly soft she is; her lips, her skin, her hair ( _she’s a girl_ , Annabeth tells herself). She’s so gentle with her now — their first few kisses were so frenzied, built up with years of desire. Now, she kisses Annabeth so delicately, so chaste.

Secretly, Annabeth yearns for the intensity of their first kiss. “You don’t have to be so shy about it.”

“I don’t really know how to do this, Annabeth,” Percy laughs, knowing Annabeth knows no more than she does.

“I _like_ you. I _trust_ you.”

Percy pushes her curls out of her face, her fingers combing through, mirroring how Annabeth did it. “Sorry. You hate it when people touch your hair.”

That’s true; it’s a tangled, frizzy mess when people touch it, raking their hands through without a care. But Percy’s hands are so gentle; “I like it when _you_ do.” _It’s just that when you’re this close I feel like I’m going to lose control._ When thoughts like this flood her mind, she has to remind herself that it’s _okay_ to kiss her — she’s spent so long suppressing that desire into the deepest recesses of her mind.

Percy smiles back at her, stroking her cheek with the lightest touch of her thumb, and Annabeth can’t take it anymore. She kisses Percy, not the innocent, closed-mouth kisses they’ve shared in the past few weeks — deeper, yet somehow sweeter. She moves her lips in tandem with Percy, and it feels like she’s floating. Annabeth wonders if she feels the same. She’s not thinking, or she’s thinking too much; she lifts Percy into her lap, eliciting a squeak from her.

Percy hates how overwhelming it is. All she wants to do is kiss her, but her brain is preoccupied with every sensation traversing her body; specifically, Annabeth’s searing touch, her warm breath against her neck. She pulls away, and wraps Annabeth in a hug, burying her head in her curls, the sweet scent of lemon flooding her senses. “You’re perfect.”

Annabeth blushes, and she’s glad Percy can’t see, because even though their dynamic has shifted, she knows she would still tease her. “You know, you drive me crazy sometimes,” she whispers. She does, in more ways than one. Somehow she manages to both frustrate her and turn her brain into a mushy mess with the littlest movements. No one has ever made her feel this way, she realizes. Just Percy. And that’s scary — but refreshing. It’s scary, not in the far too familiar way she feared for her life, but the kind of fear that makes her _feel alive_.

With that, Percy kisses her again. Annabeth curses her stupid, hormonal teenage brain, because it’s like her logical side is gone. The only thing she can do is trace the slope of her waist through her t-shirt; so desperate to be close to her, yet so afraid of scaring her.

Annabeth’s touch feels like it’s burning her skin, and she wonders just how much more intense it would feel without the fabric separating them. It’s hard for Percy to rectify having these kinds of thoughts about her — part of her still feels almost guilty, like she’s somehow bad for wanting it — because she repressed them for so long. Because before, Annabeth was just her best friend, her _straight_ best friend who she stared at and dreamed about kissing. It felt wrong, thinking about her like that when she’d never feel the same. (Now, she kisses her; her lips soft and pink with the lingering scent of strawberry lip gloss, and she wonders how she could ever think it was wrong.)

Annabeth laughs, running her hands down Percy’s hips, “This is _weird_.” It's weird that she's kissing the girl she grew up alongside, the one who conquered an impossible prophecy and came through it stronger than anyone would've guessed.

“But, like… good?”

Her smile shines as bright as the light of the fire. “Definitely good.”

“I _really_ like you, Annabeth.” _You don’t even know._ They've spent half the summer as stolen kisses and sneaking through camp at night, yet she still doesn't understand the gravity of how Percy looks at her.

“I like you too.” she adds jokingly, “Regretfully.”

Percy shakes her head, letting out a laugh. And they're okay — because they’re fumbling hands and awkward laughs — but they’re figuring it out _together_.


End file.
